Lifelines

Photo Credit Lifeline Embo Beach by Debbie Ross

Over last 4 weeks I’ve pre-posted my Substack articles. I had a run of energy and ideas and wrote 4 articles, which I scheduled to go out, one each week. It’s just a well I did that, because over the last month I’ve hit an impasse with almost everything. I’m usually the sort of person who never sits still and always has some new project on the go. I currently have several writing projects in progress - a piece of overdue work for a friend, a writing newsletter, which should have gone out last month and the 10th anniversary project for my wee home baking business. Yet, here I sit, barely managing to do the basics, with little enthusiasm for anything much, feeling a bit lost and a whole heap guilty.

I worked in the mental health arena for over a decade and I recognise the signs of mild depression: It’s winter; I’m not sleeping well; I’m in a lot of pain with my chronic illnesses. My Dad’s death hovers in my peripheral vision - a waking spectre; my Mum’s Dementia is substantially worse; my Sister is struggling and our financial situation is still bleak (despite 200 job applications, no one wants to hire a not-far-off 60 year old manager/app developer, except supermarkets on part-time contracts - which is what he currently has). So, it’s not a surprise really, that I’m a little depressed - any one of those situations can throw someone off kilter, never mind the whole vice of vexation that grips me.

I know what to do, although I’m not sure the knowing helps. I’m trying to eat properly - I cook from scratch every day - and having someone else to make meals for means I can’t avoid eating and can’t eat crap. I’m going to bed at my usual time and doing everything I can to get a good night’s sleep; I spend time outdoors every day and try and do something I enjoy. The routine of dog feeding, walking, toileting, training, stops me from seeping into my sofa and not surfacing. I try and do at least one thing from my ‘to do’ each week and don’t pressure myself to do too much else. I’m making an effort to be sociable, but as someone who’s pretty reclusive generally, that’s never going to go swimmingly. The bottom line is, I’m doing my best to put myself in the best place to get out of my mire of despond and I’m doing the best I can in the circumstances.

Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s certainly not for sympathy. I dislike people feeling sorry for me. It offends my sense of self-reliance and resilience. I’ve always picked myself up and carried on. I’m not a pathetic character to be pitied. I’m telling you because we all have periods in our lives when we’re down, when things are difficult, when the future looks gloomy. So much of social media is about image and positive content and reality can get left behind. No one’s life is perfect, whatever impression they give. I’ve always favoured being real, sometimes more truthful than people can handle. I know from experience that things will get better at some point. Not all my circumstances will change quickly and some may even gets worse before they get better, yet there is always the possibility that something will improve, however minor and that can make a big difference. There are many things about my situation I can’t change: I can’t change my Mum’s diagnosis, I can’t help my sister any more than I already do, I can’t magic my husband a job, or turn winter into spring. What I can do, I am.

Throughout my life, I’ve written poetry. A friend recently postulated that I wouldn’t be writing much with all the things I have going on at the moment, but actually, writing is something that grounds me, that helps me explore my feelings. I’ve written dozens of poems over the last few months, as well as a short story. Poetry is short - compared to other forms of writing - and doesn’t require many hours of preparation and research. All you need is pen and paper or a phone with notes or voice recording apps. It’s something I can do and then go back to. It fits in around my lifestyle and commitments. I started 2025 with a writing plan and so far am more or less managing to stick with it. It’s something to hang onto and it gives me a small measure of satisfaction to feel like I’m not failing at everything all at once. An acceptance from a press I admire at the weekend, really cheered me up, albeit momentarily. Sometimes it’s those brief moments that can keep us going.

People are kind. Or, most of the people I come cross are, anyway. A poetry pal kindly sent me some poetry journals to read (I’ve had to cancel my subscriptions to everything). I was really touched by their generosity and the material will give me reading for many months. Another friend paid for a partial fill of our car - a massive help when our finances are so constrained and we barely go anywhere as finding money for fuel is a bit of a luxury. The writer of a Substack I follow generously sent me a free subscription - a virtual stranger to me giving something so generously. These ‘little’ kindnesses are monumental when you’re struggling with life (and even when you’re not) and I appreciate them to my core.

Writing this weekly publication has been a great way to flex my writing muscles and make connections with other writers and creatives and I’m grateful for every person who subscribes, follows and comments; It means I don’t feel like I’m writing into the void. So, this week I’m writing from my reality, sharing it with you and hoping the words will have resonance for someone, somewhere.

As ever, thank you for reading All Kinds of Everything. I’m always happy to discuss any topic I write about, so do feel free to comment.

‘Normal’ service will resume next week, probably.

Edit. If you’re reading this and feel at your wits end, there are organisation you can contact where volunteers are trained to listen, for example, The Samaritans. You do not need to be thinking of suicide to speak to them.

https://www.samaritans.org

I’m always happy to chat, but don’t check this account daily.